


I Saw A Ship Come Through The Sky

by JoAryn



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 01:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAryn/pseuds/JoAryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As fights break out among the crew, Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay must find a way to bring Starfleet and Maquis together.  Set during "The 37s".</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Saw A Ship Come Through The Sky

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2013 Secret Santa exchange on VAMB. My request from Claire was very open ended: Anything romantic and J/C! 
> 
> Authors Notes: I don't even know who owns them anymore, I just know that I don't. Still, I'm going to probably keep borrowing them and putting them in to new situations for a long time yet to come. Hopefully, to the enjoyment of my readers.

Title: I Saw A Ship Come Through the Sky

Rating: PG-13

 

Request: Anything romantic and J/C!

 

Authors Notes: I don't even know who owns them anymore, I just know that I don't. Still, I'm going to probably keep borrowing them and putting them in to new situations for a long time yet to come. Hopefully, to the enjoyment of my readers.

 

 

Stardate 48973.2

 

"Come!" Although she suspected that she knew who it was, she looked up as the doors to the ready room slid open. She hid a smile as Chakotay entered and stopped before her desk. "Yes, Commander?"

 

A PADD was clutched in his hand but he made no move to hand it over to her. In fact, he looked rather ill at ease, shifting his weight slightly as if ready to flee. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to answer her either, as he remained silent. His face, which could be expressive or wooden as he willed it, was stoney but for a slight tick in his cheek belying his tension.

 

Assuming that whatever was on the PADD was the source of his disquiet, she held out an expectant hand. "You have something to report?" Though she was inclined to speak kindly, she let just a touch of command into her tone in hopes of snapping him out of whatever stupor was currently rendering him mute.

 

Whether it was the gesture or the implied command, he started to hand over the PADD before recollecting himself and pulling it back out of reach. He opened his mouth as if to speak but a frowned flickered over his face and he snapped his mouth shut.

 

Kathryn blew out an annoyed sigh. She knew he'd been dealing with quite a bit ever since the doctor had re-incorporated his bio-neural energy with his body in the aftermath of the incident with the Komar, but enough was enough. She stood, bracing her hands on her desk and knowing that if he took in her posture, he would be aware that she was done with the hemming and hawing that he seemed so mired in at the moment. "Commander Chakotay, I presume you came into my ready room for some purpose. I would appreciate it if you would communicate that purpose with me so that we can both get back to work." If her posture wasn't enough, her words hopefully would be.

 

One of the two seemed to work for he seemed to visibly deflate, sinking into one of the chairs in front of her desk as he tossed the PADD reluctantly onto the surface with a clatter. She snatched it up before he could even think of retrieving it.

 

She thumbed on the display and glanced at the header, even as she watched Chakotay out of the corner of her eye. "A security report? Isn't that Tuvok's domain?"

 

The sigh he heaved seemed to rattle up from the very depths of his being. "I wish. The issues with Dalby, Henley, Gerron, and Chell seem to have worked out, but there was a skirmish last night, and another this morning."

 

"Skirmish?" She returned to her seat, still pretending to read the PADD while the majority of her attention remained on the Commander. "You mean there were two more fights?"

 

After a rocky start, the Maquis and Starfleet crew had seemed to be well on their way to melding into one more-or-less cohesive unit. Since the incident with the Komar, however, things had once again become tense between the two crews. Despite her attempts to be more accessible to the crew than she would have been in regular circumstances, she was still too distant to have an informed idea about what, precisely, was causing the problem, though she had her guesses.

 

"Yes," he ground out. "The first occurred in the cargo bay at approximately 21:30 last evening. The more recent of the two was just an hour ago in the mess hall."

 

"And?" Even without asking, she knew he wouldn't have been half so reluctant to make the report if the two fights didn't follow the disturbing pattern of Maquis vs. Starfleet as they had for the past couple weeks.

 

Initially, they had targeted a few of the more visible, and vocal, malcontents and "encouraged" them to participate in extra training with Tuvok. The training had seemed to do some good, as Ken Dalby, Mariah Henley, Gerron, and Chell had been markedly less antagonistic, but where they had fallen silent, new voices had arisen. While Janeway wished she could have provided Chakotay with some respite, as he had been handling all of the incidents in his capacity as first officer and unofficial personnel officer, she also knew that there was no one better suited for the task.

 

"The incident in the mess hall involved crewmen Jonas and Telfer."

 

"Telfer?" Although she'd done her best to become at least somewhat acquainted with the entire crew over the past seven months, she still couldn't say she knew all the crew. Jonas, she knew, was one of the former Maquis. Telfer was a Starfleet original, but all she recalled was that he seemed to be a very quiet young man. A fight in the mess hall seemed out of character.

 

"I agree, it's not like him. Apparently Jonas was harping on another Starfleet crewman pretty badly and Telfer decided to intervene. He came off rather the worse for wear and is still in sickbay being patched up. I have Jonas confined to quarters."

 

"Not the brig?"

 

"The brig is currently housing crewmen Carlson and Dell, the two combatants from last night." An odd expression flickered in his eyes and Janeway knew she wasn't getting the whole story. In a situation as fraught as this, she didn't like to be short of information.

 

"What aren't you telling me, Commander?"

 

"The fight between Carlson and Dell wasn't exactly spontaneous. While I'm having trouble getting all the details, it seems to have been more of a cage match. Only, not for sport. Apparently the two had words in Engineering during alpha shift yesterday. B'Elanna says someone made a comment about 'duking it out like gentlemen' and apparently someone else ran with the idea by turning it into a bloody sporting event. And I do mean bloody. Both of them required significant regeneration for contusions."

 

"This is getting out of hand."

 

@---'---,----

 

It had been two days since the last fight, but no one on Voyager was fooled into thinking the troubles were over. There was a tension in the air that seemed to tighten almost every hour, a tenuous thread of restraint that was ready to snap at any moment. The only respite had been the discovery of a colony of Humans, apparently the descendents of people abducted over four hundred years earlier to serve as slaves for a now-vanished race called the Briori.

 

Mike Ayala frowned as he watched Jerome Carlson rise from his seat at the next table. He'd just returned from the surface himself and was looking forward to a relaxing meal. It didn't look like he was going to get it.

 

Normally, he wouldn't have called Carlson graceful, but just now the lanky man's movements reminded him of one of the predatory felinoid species that had roamed the jungles of his home colony. Ayala followed Carlson's shrouded gaze and stiffened when he saw Dell getting food from the counter. The pair had been released this morning but it was clear from Carlson's posture that whatever bad feelings were between the two had not been resolved by their three day stint in the brig.

 

Fortunately, it seemed that he was not the only one picking up on the brewing storm, for the mess hall had gone suddenly still and silent as diners dropped their utensils to to give their attention to what was happening. On the far side of the room, he saw Torres easing out of her seat, no doubt intending to intervene should hostilities resume. Unfortunately, there were a good number of 'Fleeters that were shifting as well, probably intending to go to the aid of Dell should Carlson attack.

 

Ironically, Dell was perhaps the only person in the mess hall who was oblivious to the danger he was in. He seemed completely unconcerned as he picked through the offerings that Neelix had laid out for the meal. He appeared to be testing the ripeness of a Jibraanian thorn apple, but the stillness must have finally filtered into his consciousness because he swung around abruptly, eyes wide.

 

With an unholy roar, Carlson lunged towards Dell, heedless of the 'Fleeters ready to defend their friend. The 'Fleeters exploded into action, converging on Carlson even as B'Elanna arrived between him and his target. Who exactly threw the first punch would become a matter of some debate, but all at once the entire mess hall was in on the action. Fleeter or Maquis, it seemed to make no matter as people pummelled whomever they came in contact with.

 

Ayala quickly found himself under siege, disadvantaged as he was by having still been seated when the fight broke out. Whether anyone had intended to attack him quickly become irrelevant as a fist slammed into his jaw. He retaliated more out of instinct than anger and one of the assailants fell away, even as another moved in. In short order, he was swinging almost wildly, trying to battle his way out of the brouhaha. Even though no one was directly targeting him, it seemed that no one was interested in allowing anyone to exit the melee.

 

There was a flash of red to his right and the person beside him fell, then more flashes and more people falling until he felt the unmistakable seizure of his muscles from a phaser on stun. His vision greyed around the edges and the last thing he saw was the floor rushing up to meet him as his senses faded to black.

 

@---'---,----

 

"Ah, Mister Ayala, you're coming around." The acerbic tone of the holographic doctor grated on his ears and seemed to echo in time to the throbbing in his head. He seemed to be sitting under a star about to go nova and clenched his eyes closed in an effort to avoid the harsh light. A burning pain rippled across his skin and his back arched in protest before there was a faint hiss accompanied by a brief sting on his neck as the EMH administered a hypospray.

 

The medication, injected directly into his blood stream, quickly spread throughout his body and the pain ebbed away. The overhead light seemed to dim and the throbbing in his head dulled to a faint pressure at his temples. He groaned and turned his head to the side, away from the still too bright light.

 

"Mike?"

 

While the hypospray might have chased away the residual effects of the stun blast, it did nothing to temper the carefully controlled anger he heard in Chakotay's voice. Ayala groaned again and wished for the oblivion of unconsciousness.

 

"I know you're awake, Mike."

 

Yeah, he definitely did not want to wake up to that ice-covered steel voice.

 

"Commander, I'd appreciate it if you would not harass my patients. With so many injured, I was not able to administer the analgesic before he began to come around so no doubt he is still feeling some of the effects of being stunned."

 

"I need answers, Doctor, and since he's the first one to awaken, I'd just as soon get them from him."

 

"Commander, I really must . . ." the doctor appeared to think better of countermanding the first officer. "Very well, but please, if you must interrogate the lieutenant, do it somewhere else. I have patients to attend to and too few beds to do it."

 

Knowing that it was futile to protest at this point, Ayala slitted open his eyes. If he'd thought the anger in Chakotay's voice had been bad, it was nothing compared to the almost murderous rage in the Indian's eyes. "If you wanna question me, you're gonna have to give me a hand, boss."

 

@---'---,----

 

Chakotay gripped Mike's arm rather harder than was strictly necessary as he helped his compatriot into the medical lab and shut the door. He took a few steps away from Mike, running an agitated hand through his hair. He would have thought Ayala was above this sort of stuff -- both he and B'Elanna knew how Chakotay felt about working with the Starfleet crew -- but Mike and Torres had both been found in the aftermath of the fight in the mess hall.

 

It wasn't just the fight that had Chakotay annoyed, but also the fact that Tuvok had found it necessary to apply a wide dispersal stun to all participants. The Captain had seemed none too thrilled with the Vulcan's solution either, and she'd asked Chakotay to try to sort out exactly what had happened since all witnesses to the actual fight had currently been unconscious in sickbay.

 

Blowing out a sigh, the first officer turned to his friend, hoping that Ayala would be able to provide information that wouldn't result in locking twenty three crew members in their quarters. "You know, I really thought better of you and 'Lanna."

 

Mike opened his mouth to answer or protest, but Chakotay cut him off. "I don't know what the hell is going on on this ship, but it has got to stop. If anything, I would have thought that Seska's departure would have helped solidify the crew by establishing a common enemy. Instead, we've had more fights since she left than we had in the entire time she was on board!" He smacked a bulkhead for emphasis, shoulders heaving with his frustration.

 

Finally, he turned to face Ayala. "Tell me everything you know about the fight in the mess hall."

 

Mike shrugged, still bearing the fading bruise of the violent encounter. "I'd say Carlson started it, but I don't actually know who threw the first punch. I was at the table next to him, and everything seemed pretty normal." Seeing the doubtful look on his commanding officer's face, he rephrased. "I mean, it was tense, but everyone seemed focused on eating or talking about the cities down there.”

 

“I guess Carlson saw Dell come in or something because he stood up from the table in the middle of his meal and Dell was at the counter, just browsing the buffet. It happened pretty quick after that, but I saw B'Elanna getting up on the far side of the mess, and a bunch of ''Fleeters were restless, while Dell seemed pretty unaware. I was about to try to talk Carlson down when he abruptly charged at Dell. A bunch of the ''Fleeters tried to stop him, and it looked like B'Elanna did, too, but then everyone was throwing punches and they didn't much seem to care who they hit."

 

"And how did you get involved?"

 

"I didn't get up fast enough."

 

The look Chakotay gave him spoke clearly of his skepticism at that statement.

 

"It sounds stupid, but that's about all I can tell you. I was still seated when it broke out and before I could try to get out of there and alert security, I was shoved out of my chair from behind and into the fight. I tried to get out of it, but I wasn't making any headway until security showed up and started phasering people."

 

Chakotay leaned with feigned casualness against the well, arms folded over his chest. He knew that it wouldn't fool Mike, but if he didn't keep his arms occupied, he was liable to hit someone. As it was, he was itching for a good round or ten in the ring, but the boxing program he was designing for the holodeck wasn't finished yet. "Did you hear anyone ordering people to cease?"

 

Mike shook his head. "Maybe, but there were a lot of people shouting a lot of things. It was hard to hear anything in that din."

 

Much as he would have liked to maintain his annoyance with Tuvok, he didn't doubt that Ayala was being honest. Stunning everyone probably was the best recourse at the time, no matter how much he disliked the tactic on principle. He gave Ayala another once over, noticing the bruise and swelling on the man's jaw. He really should let the Doctor finish treating him.

 

"Neither you nor 'Lanna has come to me with information about what all of this is about. I can maybe see 'Lanna being out of the loop because I know a few people feel like she's playing too nice with Starfleet, but you're not in that position. You wanna fess up to why people are beating each other silly on a fairly regular basis around here?"

 

While Ayala had looked somewhat reluctant to answer questions about the fight, he now looked positively nervous. Considering that he'd seen Mike taking on three Cardassian soldiers at once without blinking, that was saying something. "Out with it." Mike muttered something that Chakotay couldn't quite hear. And while Chakotay was fairly certain he didn't actually *want* to hear what was going on, he knew he had to in order to put a stop to the fights. "Speak up," he grated out between clenched teeth.

 

Mike's answer was a little louder this time, but still unintelligible. Rather that repeating himself, Chakotay borrowed one of Janeway's tactics and glared at his friend.

 

"RumorhasitthatJaneway'stryingtogetyoukilled." The words tumbled over each other, but Chakotay was still able to decipher their unfortunate message.

 

He pointed at the door back to the main area of sickbay. "Go get yourself cleaned up." He definitely wanted to punch something now. That rumor sounded like the sort of shit Seska had been fond of spreading around. If she'd started it before she'd left, he had a hard time believing that no one had figured out that it was just the sort of divisive venom that she'd been plying all along. But the other possibility was that someone else had started it afterwards, which meant there was someone else on Voyager who wanted Maquis and Starfleet at each others throats.

 

@---'---,----

After his “chat” with Ayala, Chakotay remained in sickbay only long enough to ascertain from the doctor that there would be no lasting injuries from either the fight or the mass phasering. Since most of the participants were still unconscious, there was no rush to mete out punishment but he'd probably sign off on whatever Tuvok suggested. Though if there were any other problems, he might _encourage_ one or two people to consider settling on the planet.

 

He had to hand it to the Vulcan; for being such a stickler for Starfleet rules, the security chief had been remarkably evenhanded in dealing with the fights thus far. A few Maquis had groused about getting stiffer penalties but since they had instigated the fights, they had only themselves to blame. Even if they were on edge because of an unsubstantiated rumor, picking fights was hardly the best way to take action. Had the Captain had any ill will toward him (a notion which he rejected out of hand), she would hardly be any less likely to be antagonistic if his former crew was causing problems.

 

He stalked down the corridor of deck five, bypassing the first turbolift only because he hadn't decided quite where to go from here. Deck six with its two holodecks was beckoning with an opportunity to hit something, but the only finished program that came to mind was B'Elanna's calisthenics program, and her opponents would have been a bit more of a challenge than he was up to dealing with at the moment. The idea of retreating to his quarters for a vision quest was tempting but he knew he was too unsettled to relax into the necessary trance.

 

The second turbolift was coming up and he reluctantly decided on his office. He was still on duty for another hour or so and he still had a few reports to read over. It was also where he preferred to take meetings with disgruntled crewmen, not that any had been coming to him since the rash of fights began. That not one of them thought to approach him to either verify the rumor or warn him was rather disturbing in and of itself, but then the Maquis tended to be self-sufficient. He did wish that B'Elanna or Mike had come forward about the rumors earlier, though.

 

He settled himself behind his desk and flipped through the stack of PADDs waiting for his attention. An unfortunate number of them were follow-ups on previous altercations and he knew he could look forward to another stack of the same in the coming days as a result of the fracas in the mess hall. Wanting to think about almost anything else, he picked up an engineering report from B'Elanna. She proposed a number ideas for increasing the efficiency of the engines and he forwarded the report to the captain.

 

Although he was familiar with most of the theories, engineering was not his strong suit. In comparison, Captain Janeway was a level five engineer on top of her scientific accreditations. The ideas sounded good to him, but she'd have a much better sense of whether the equations and underlying theories that B'Elanna had cited were sound. He'd had the opportunity to see the two of them discussing quantum mechanics early on when Voyager had become ensnared just inside the event horizon of a singularity. If he'd ever had any doubts about how woefully inadequate his understanding of such phenomena was, that incident would have erased them completely.

 

No sooner had he forwarded the report to the Captain when the door chime sounded. He sighed, not quite settled enough to feel objective about counselling anyone over the decision to remain behind or not, but called for entry anyway.

 

To his surprise, Janeway herself stepped into the office. Aside from showing him the space when she'd first asked him to be her first officer, he couldn't remember another time in which she'd visited him in his office. It was much more typical for her to call him to her ready room if there was something she felt they needed to discuss.

 

"Captain," he stood hurriedly.

 

"As you were." She glanced around at the few personal decorations he'd added to the office and he wondered if she was remembering the preferences of his predecessor. She clasped her hands behind her as she looked at a dream catcher he'd hung on one of the bulkheads. "I heard that there's been another incident?" She glanced over her shoulder rather than facing him directly.

 

"Yes. I don't have a complete report, but from what the one person I've spoken to said, it seems that a participant in an earlier altercation felt the need to resume hostilities but it got out of hand when a number of bystanders, Maquis and Starfleet alike, tried to break it up."

 

"You mean Carlson tried to attack Dell again." It was a statement rather than a question and he looked at her in surprise. Her tone didn't assign blame, but he couldn't help but wonder if she was just that good at covering her feelings.

 

"Yes. How did you know?"

 

"Neelix. He was the one that called security in the first place. He was in the back of the galley putting away some fresh produce from airponics when 'hostilities' broke out."

 

He tugged his ear, slightly unnerved because he hadn't even asked Tuvok who had called the fight in. "Ah, yes. That matches what I heard from Ayala."

 

"Did Mike give you a heads up on what is behind all these fights?"

 

Even though he'd dismissed the idea initially, now that he was being asked to address it with the women in question, he hesitated. It was a ridiculous notion; surely she would laugh at the rumor, wouldn't she? But what if she didn't? He fumbled with a PADD on his desk, anything to give him something to look at other than her inquisitive blue eyes. “There's a rumor . . . “

 

“A rumor? People are getting their faces bashed in on the basis of a rumor?!” She dropped into one of the chairs in front of his desk.

 

“Rumors aren't always fiction.” He wasn't entirely sure if he meant for her to hear it or not, but she did and her head snapped up.

 

“You think there's some truth to this one? What in particular are we talking about? Does someone think I'm about to put all the Maquis off the ship because Seska turned out to be a spy? I said they could make their own decisions about staying and I meant it.”

 

The outrage in her voice heartened him somewhat. If she was that upset over a potential rumor of her blaming the Maquis, he couldn't very well see her plotting his demise. “No, no I don't think this one is true. At least, I certainly hope not. Apparently, someone decided that the incident on the holodeck and the one with the Komar weren't accidents and started a rumor that I was deliberately lead into harm's way.”

 

She frowned, “Lead by whom? Tuvok? I know you aren't exactly his favorite person, but that's hardly his style.”

 

“Not Tuvok, you.”

 

“Me?!” She paled and stood. “And you think it's true?” She backed towards the door, looking hurt.

 

“What? No, of course not!” Damn it! He certainly hadn't meant for her to think *he* believed it. He stood, holding out a hand as if she were a frightened bird he might entice to him. He shook his head at the ridiculous visual. He'd come to know Kathryn Janeway was one of the bravest people he'd ever known.

 

“But you said rumors aren't always fiction.” She crossed her arms over her chest but remained near the door.

 

“It was a throw away comment." He sighed and edged around the side of the desk. He'd noticed that she used her own desk to intimidate when needed, and while he doubted that she'd fall for the same ploy, he was just as willing to put himself on equal footing. "The rumors about Seska were true.” He winced as soon as he said it; he'd just meant to illustrate that some rumors had their foundations in truth, but bringing up Seska was not the best way to do it. He just hoped Janeway didn't take it as though he were equating her with the traitorous Cardassian.

 

She eyed him from across the office for a long moment and he almost felt as though he should hold his breath, waiting for her judgement. "I hope you're not comparing me with her," she said at last, but her posture had relaxed and her lips quirked into her signature crooked smile so he knew she was teasing.

 

"There is no comparison. You've shown nothing but forthright dedication to get the crew, the *entire* crew, home from the beginning. You made a hard choice, back on Sikaris, but you stuck by your principles." He took a seat on the couch under the view port, hoping she would take the unspoken invitation and join him so they could discuss the rumor and how it might be best dealt with.

 

She sighed, but made no move to follow.

 

"Captain, we should discuss this."

 

"Believe me, I know. But I'm not sure I can discuss it impartially just yet."

 

He'd hope that the momentary teasing had meant she'd forgiven him but it seemed that while she might have accepted that he honestly hadn't meant to imply that he thought this particular rumor was true, she was still upset by it. "Captain, honestly, the thought that there might be any veracity in the rumor never crossed my mind. I almost laughed out loud when Mike told me."

 

She tipped her head and gave him a sort of half smile. "I know, and I'm sure you did. But it's more than a little distressing that someone started such a rumor in the first place."

 

"I'm sure they were just trying to cause trouble."

 

She waived his words aside. "That may well be, but someone, or rather a number of someones, believe it enough to start fights based on it. I just hope it doesn't lead to more people wanting to leave the ship." She straightened, and the faint smile vanished into a bland expression. "Please report your finding to Tuvok. We'll discuss the matter and any potential solutions in my ready room at ten hundred hours." She nodded briefly, then turned on her heel and left.

 

@---'---,----

 

“Hey, Tuvok, wait up!”

 

Despite his misgivings about doing so, the Vulcan security chief paused in his progress toward the mess hall long enough for the blond helmsman to catch up with him. He turned to the lieutenant. “Yes, Mr. Paris? What can I do for you?”

 

Paris glanced both ways in the otherwise deserted corridor. Tuvok arched an eyebrow at the man's antics but waited with some impatience for the helmsman to address whatever had caused him to seek him out.

 

“This probably isn't the sort of thing to discuss in the middle of a hallway, Tuvok.”

 

“Then perhaps you would like to join me for lunch.” He started to continue toward the mess hall and whatever perversions of cooking the Talaxian had created today.

 

“Ah, that might not be the best idea either. I mean, it's not like we'd sit together normally and I'd just as soon we don't draw any extra attention.”

 

Although he was at a loss as to what topic might inspire Tom Paris to discretion, Tuvok inclined he head and gestured to a small science lab.

 

Paris rolled his eyes but followed, punching in an override code for the doors after they slid shut. Tuvok made a mental note to check how often that particular protocol had been used. It would be useful in keeping track of Paris's less legitimate activities.

 

“Don't bother tracking it, Tuvok. You think I'd give up all my secrets to you?”

 

There were times when Tuvok relished being one of a limited number of Vulcans in Starfleet, visualizing himself as a solid stone unmoved in the tumultuous river of the emotions of most of Voyager's crew. This was not one of those times.

 

“Mr. Paris, I would appreciate it if you would get to your point.”

 

Paris gave him an impatient wave as he seemed to check for an errant crewman hiding in the shadows. “All right. Now don't ask me where I got my information 'cause I won't tell you.”

 

Tuvok resisted the urge to sigh but nodded his agreement, an eyebrow twitching with the urge to hurry the helmsman along or simply walk out. Not that he was in any rush to experience the suspect foodstuffs of the mess hall, but he was quite certain that his time would be better used somewhere other than this science lab.

 

“I know about the fights – not that it's any big secret, everyone knows there've been a bunch of bust ups between the Maquis and Starfleet of late – but I also know about the rumor behind them.”

 

Tuvok felt a momentary flash of surprise but immediately quashed it. Tom Paris was well acquainted with the rumor mill on Voyager, and even though he wasn't in particularly good graces with most of the Maquis, it was only logical that he would know of the latest “scuttlebutt”. The more surprising aspect was that Paris would approach him with the information.

 

“And what is this rumor?”

 

“Basically, someone's putting around that Commander Chakotay's recent mishaps haven't been so accidental.” Paris shrugged diffidently. “They imply that the Captain is deliberately assigning him to dangerous tasks in hopes that he won't come back.”

 

“I'm at a loss as to how such an illogical implication could have any bearing on the recent behavior. In the most recent instances when the Commander was injured or endangered, I was endangered as well.”

 

“I didn't say it was logical. Since Seska turned out to be Cardassian spy, the Maquis are feeling a bit unsettled and this is feeding on that. There's probably some of them who think the firefight the other day was just another part of it.” The pilot rolled his eyes. “Anyhow, I'm sure Torres or Ayala's reported it to Chakotay by now, but the question is what are you going to do about it?”

 

Tuvok felt his brows constricting in what Humans would call a frown and consciously smoothed his expression. He had been acting under the assumption that the various scuffles were due to unrest in the Maquis, but hadn't suspected that there might be a specific cause. He was well aware that other species tended to react more emotionally to stimuli, but he was at a loss as how to counter a suspicion of ill will. Not that he would let the pilot know that. "That is between the captain, the commander, and I."

 

"Ha! You haven't the first idea how to deal with something like this."

 

"Unless you have something salient to add, Mr. Paris, I will continue to the mess hall."

 

"Give me a break, Tuvok. You know you don't have any ideas."

 

Tuvok reluctantly conceded. "Am I to presume that you do?"

 

"Of course. You, well the captain actually, needs to show that she trusts and wants the Commander right where he is."

 

"That much, Lieutenant, is obvious."

 

"Well, what better way to show that you want someone with you long term than a wedding?"

 

"I hardly think Captain Janeway's fiancee would appreciate her jilting him to marry the man she was sent to arrest."

 

"Geez, Tuvok, I'm not talking about her eloping in a fit of romance. It's just a ceremony. If they want, they can have it annulled later, but a marriage is perfect. They pledge to have and to hold for better or worse in front of the crew and it makes us one big family."

 

Despite his usual antipathy toward the wayward pilot and former inmate, Tuvok had to concede that the idea of a marriage had merit. "Very well, Mr. Paris, I will take your suggestion under advisement. Now if you would please release the door, I would like to eat before I need to return to my station."

 

@---'---,----

 

"Akoocheemoya . . ." Chakotay intoned. "I am far from the bones of my people but I hope that one spirit will find its way to me and help me find the wisdom I seek. Akoocheemoya."

 

After his chat with Janeway, he'd retreated to his quarters and the solitude they offered. While he knew that he would have to talk to Tuvok about what he'd learned eventually, he hoped that his spirit guide might be able to help him find some perspective.

 

As he slipped into the trance, he found himself in the scrubby desert of his home planet, far from his village, or at least a terrain very like it, though the sky overhead was an odd violet color that turned the wind- and sand-washed landscape from reds and yellows to purples and and blues. In contrast, the short, gnarled mescal trees bore vivid green foliage. The grey wolf that usually visited him was sitting about twenty meters away, her head cocked quizzically.

 

Even though he considered her familiar and friendly, he approached slowly. "Hello, sister."

 

The wolf made no reply, but stood and wandered over to a dried and desiccated log. She nosed around the silvery wood for a few moments, then lay down and rested her muzzle on her forepaws. Chakotay took this as an invitation to sit down and took a seat on the log next to the wolf. "I am troubled, sister, by stories that are being told."

 

"Stories are just ways to explain what we cannot understand." The wolf rolled over and presented her belly for him to rub. "Are you troubled by the stories? Or by the situation they are explaining?"

 

Chakotay frowned as he obliged the wolf's tacit request. "Both? I am troubled because the stories put someone I respect in a very negative light. And the stories are causing a rift in our peoples. If the crew remains fractured as it is currently, we will be making more work for ourselves and we will never find our way home."

 

The wolf blinked amber eyes up at him, tongue lolling. "Sometimes, from conflict comes greater unity. Find the common thread in your conflict and you will find the object that will bind you together."

 

Chakotay sighed, sensing that he'd gotten just about all he was going to get from his guide. He gave the wolf a final pat and felt the reality of his quarters solidifying around him. He closed his eyes and shook his head, remembering his words to the Captain months before when he'd offered to show her how to find her own guide. They did provide good guidance, but he may have neglected to mention that sometimes they could be more than a bit obtuse. And in this case, his guide had given him even more to worry about than before he'd spoken to her.

 

He carefully folded the animal hides around the akoonah and his talismans, before replacing the bundle on a shelf. He sank down on the sofa beneath the view ports, starring out at the passing stars in an unconscious mimicry of one of the captain's favorite poses. The stories that Janeway was trying to get him killed disturbed him on many levels, including a few he'd just as soon not think about.

 

Not only did he have to consider who might be concocting the stories in the first place, but he also had to consider the fact that there was something to them that made them believable enough for people to start fights over. He could admit that he'd run into some dangerous situations recently, but he hadn't been alone in that. In the instance where he'd been disembodied, he'd been on the trade mission with Tuvok. The Komar could just have easily have taken over his mind and left Tuvok to wander about incorporeal.

 

And the photonic creature on the holodeck? Again, he'd been with Tuvok and Harry had disappeared first. If Janeway had been trying to put him in harm's way, she was doing a very sloppy job of it, or else she intended for Tuvok to die along side him. He really couldn't see either of those as realistic concerns. Janeway was as spit-and-polish Starfleet as they came, according to her service records, and negligent homicide wasn't exactly a Starfleet ideal.

 

He was jolted from his thoughts by the door chime. He didn't often have visitors to his quarters so he was at a loss as to whom might be calling at this time of the evening. The only person he could think of would be Janeway, come to share some further thoughts on the rumors and the fights it had inspired. “Come in?”

 

To his surprise, the doors slid open to reveal Tuvok. The security chief entered, nodding politely to his host. “I hope I am not disturbing you.”

 

Chakotay stood, extending a hand in welcome. “No, not at all. Come in. Uh, can I get you anything?”

 

“No, thank you.” Tuvok swept an assessing gaze around the rather spartan room before returning his attention to the first officer. “I presume that the captain informed you that she wished to meet with us and discuss the recent situation tomorrow following the regular briefing?”

 

Chakotay nodded.

 

“I believe that I may have a potential solution to the problem.”

 

@---'---,----

 

Kathryn was reading reports in her ready room when the door chimed. She glanced up from a report on the recent fracas in the dining hall as she called for entry, just long enough to see both Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Tuvok enter. As usual, Tuvok's expression gave nothing away but the frown on her first officer's face made her suspect she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear. She nodded an acknowledgement of their presence and gestured for them to wait. She had only a few paragraphs to go in the current report and she'd rather read it in one go if she could.

 

It only took her a minute more to finish it off and affix her thumb print, but she was afraid she hadn't actually gleaned all that much from the report. In the short time it took her to read three paragraphs, Chakotay had shifted in his seat upward of five times. No, she definitely was not going to like what she was about to hear. She took a couple slow breaths as she set the PADD to the side, hoping it would help her face whatever the pair had to report. Feeling somewhat braced, she raised her gaze.

 

"Well, gentlemen, I can already tell I'm not going to like what I'm about to hear, so I suppose you might as well get on with it." She looked expectantly at Chakotay. As the higher ranking of the two, it was his privilege to speak first.

 

He, in turn, glanced sideways at the security chief, tacitly giving Tuvok the go ahead.

 

Despite the vaunted Vulcan emotional control, she was sure she saw a flicker of unease in his eyes. “I understand that the Commander has already informed you about the rumors that seem to be the cause of the recent eruptions of violence?”

 

“Yes, he informed me shortly after the fight in the mess hall.”

 

Tuvok nodded. “Very well. After much consideration, I believe that the Maquis could be convinced that you bear no ill intent toward the Commander and also assure the Starfleet crew that there are no hard feelings about recent events if the two of you were to marry."

 

Janeway stared at Tuvok. Surely he hadn't just suggested she marry her second in command? While relationships between officers weren't exactly prohibited, they were strongly advised against due to the myriad problems that could (and often, did) arise. Of course, Tuvok was certainly not suggesting she jump into to bed with Chakotay, or at least she hoped not . . . "I'm sorry, Tuvok. Did you say we should get married?!"

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chakotay duck his head and she realized that Tuvok must have taken the suggestion to him first before approaching her. It was no wonder he was uncomfortable though she couldn't fathom how either of them had thought she might agree to such a thing.

 

"I did." Tuvok steepled his fingers, the very picture of calm. "The standard human bonding ceremony pledges fidelity between the participants. If you were to 'plight your troth' to the Commander, Captain, it would clearly communicate to the crew at large that you are committed to working together."

 

"There are other ways of pledging a commitment, Tuvok."

 

"Agreed. However, for humans, weddings typically involve, and invoke, an emotional attachment which I believe would be beneficial. It would be most illogical for someone to want to kill someone they care about."

 

"Illogical, yes, but hardly uncommon in human history, Tuvok."

 

Tuvok tipped his head in acknowledgement but still remained frustratingly serene in stark contrast to the consternation he was causing in the two humans. Janeway wondered if he would be so calm if someone had 'logically' suggested that he get married. She was tempted to ask but suspected that he'd calmly point out that it would hardly be logical to suggest him for matrimony as he was already married.

 

She blew a sigh between pursed lips and headed for the replicator. She'd already had three cups of coffee, but she had two more hours of duty to get through and after this, she was going to need all the help she could get. Sipping her fresh cup of java, she turned back to her guests. "All right, let's say I agree to this . . . idea. The only person on board with the power to perform a human marriage ceremony is the captain. I can hardly perform my own wedding."

 

"Of course not, Captain. However, the 37s maintain marriage ceremonies that are not entirely dissimilar to those currently in use in the Federation. I feel sure that if you approached Mr. Evansville, he would be willing to make the necessary arrangements. Additionally, should anyone suspect that your desire to be wed is not genuine, you may excuse your haste with the fact that it is highly unlikely that we should encounter another compatible society for a great many years."

 

"You seem to have thought of everything, Tuvok." Chakotay fairly snarled the comment.

 

"Indeed, Commander."

 

"You have forgotten one thing, however, Tuvok. Both the Commander and I have to agree to this."

 

"As you say, Captain. I have endeavored to find alternative means of either proving to the Maquis crew members that their fears are unfounded or demonstrating the Commander's and your commitment to our mission and to the peaceful fusion of the crews, but I have so far been unable to come up with another viable course of action."

 

"I find that rather hard to believe, Tuvok,” Chakotay commented. “There are numerous oaths in human culture, including many that bind the taker to upholding certain values. The officers oath, for example, requires Starfleet officers to swear to uphold the ideals of the Federation, protect its citizens, and defend against enemies from without and within." Janeway was glad that Chakotay had finally chosen to join the conversation.

 

"You are correct, Commander, however, as the Maquis already feel that they have been betrayed by Starfleet and the Federation when colonies such as your own were ceded to the Cardassians, they do not respect Starfleet and would find such an oath to be meaningless. In comparison, the marriage commitment is recognized by virtually all of human society and transcends political and ideological differences."

 

As she'd been listening, Janeway had made her way back to her desk. The nervous energy that had bestirred her before had fled, leaving only a heavy sense of foreboding in its wake. "Alright, Tuvok, you've made your point."

 

The Vulcan stood, "Then, with your permission, Captain, I will return to my post."

 

"Yes, thank you, Tuvok." She waited until the bridge doors slid shut behind the security chief before sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Well, Commander, what are your thoughts?"

 

Chakotay took a bracing breath, "It's a start?"

 

Kathryn had closed her eyes in an effort to stave off the headache that was brewing, but she opened one to peer at him from behind her hand. "Is that a statement or a question?"

 

He shrugged, a rueful smile gracing his features. "A bit of both I suppose. I don't like it and I don't expect that you do, either, but it *is* an idea. And so far, the only one we have."

 

The ache was beginning to throb at her temples and she dropped her hand since it wasn't doing any good anyway. "Yes, unfortunately." She knocked back the last bit of her coffee before heading back to the replicator. She'd regret the extra cups when she was short of rations later, but at the moment, the caffeine hit felt more than a little necessary. "Would you like anything?"

 

He tipped his head back, stretching his neck muscles and looking nearly as weary as she felt. "Tea, please. Uh, chamomile."

 

"One coffee, black. One tea, chamomile." The replicator hummed for a moment before two mugs materialized. She picked up the coffee and took an eager sip before delivering the tea to Chakotay. He took a sip and immediately grimaced.

 

"Problem?"

 

"They say this stuff is supposed to be calming, but I don't see how anything that tastes this bad can be considered calming. Can I change my order?"

 

She waved a weary hand in the direction of the replicator. "Help yourself, but you might have to use your own rations. I think I'm running low."

 

"Neelix's meals have been _that_ bad this month?" He commented with some surprise as he went to exchange the tea. "Want me to recycle your old cup?"

 

"Please." While he used the replicator, she savored her coffee, letting her eyes slip closed and feeling the pressure at her temples ease slightly.

 

A slight scuff drew her attention back to her first officer. He'd again seated himself in front of her desk and from the relaxed expression, his new order was much more to his liking. He then rested the cup on his knee. "Do you have any particular objections to the idea?"

 

"Other than the fact that I'm already engaged?" She huffed a laugh. "I can't say it's a circumstance I ever considered for nuptials in the past, but he had some valid points."

 

"Unfortunately."

 

She raised an eyebrow, "It sounds like you have some objections."

 

"I don't like the idea of subverting rite of matrimony. It is not something that is entered into lightly by my people."

 

"But you knew what Tuvok was going to propose before you came in here, so obviously he convinced you."

 

"He convinced me that it was a viable course of action. He didn't convince me that it was the right thing to do." The tension fairly radiated from his voice.

 

"I'm certainly open to suggestions, but they seem to be in short supply."

 

Chakotay surged to his feet, placing his mug on the corner of her desk as he paced. "And I don't have any. But it feels like we'd be lying to the crew, playing out a pageant in the hopes that they'll believe fairy tale."

 

"I hardly think Tuvok expects the crew to think we're in love with each other." At least, she hoped not. As a Vulcan, emotional considerations were often something Tuvok struggled with. While she didn't doubt his affection for T'Pol or his attachment to his family, she really didn't think that Tuvok had fully understood the emotional importance Humans placed on marriage ceremonies.

 

“Don't you? I can't see the excuse of hurrying to the alter in case we don't meet another compatible society for some time as implying anything other than two people who want to get married while they have the chance.” He paused on the upper level, bracing his arms on the metal railing.

 

“I'll concede that the appearance might be that we are romantically attached, but even if that were what the crew picks up from this,” she waved a hand, searching for the right word before settling, “event, they can hardly expect us to be demonstrative. We're still the commanding officers of the ship and if the implication is that we've been involved for some part of the past year, then they'd have to believe that we can be extremely discreet.” She stood and laid a hand on his. “I understand your concerns, Chakotay, and I'm not dismissing them, but things can't go on as they have been.”

 

He sighed and dropped his head in acceptance.

 

“Now, do you think you can draft an announcement for the crew? I need to contact Mr. Evansville and see what arrangements can be made on such short notice.”

 

@---'---,----

 

B'Elanna popped out from an open hatchway and pulled Chakotay inside, slamming her palm on the control panel so the doors slid shut, blocking them from sight. "Is it true?" She hissed, "You're marrying *her*?"

 

There was no question as to "her" was; Chakotay knew that, despite her elevation to Chief Engineer, B'Elanna still wasn't terribly keen on Janeway. He was tempted to confess Tuvok's plan -- it would certainly assuage B'Elanna's concern -- but he held his tongue and sighed. "Yes, the Captain and I are getting married."

 

"Are you crazy? She's *Starfleet*; she's everything we were fighting against back in the Alpha quadrant!" B'Elanna's agitation had her blood up and it tinged her richly colored skin a ruddy mahogany that highlighted her Klingon heritage more than usual.

 

He glanced around and found that they were in a vacant engineering lab. He took a few steps away from his irate friend, hoping that distance would help him have the wherewithal to deal patiently with her anger. Since they'd been on Voyager, she'd been a bit less volatile, her responsibilities in Engineering tempering her more aggressive tendencies. He wondered if she was even aware of how much she'd managed to grow since the very woman she was protesting had taken a chance on her.

 

"We're not in the Alpha quadrant any more, B'Elanna. We're here, in the Delta quadrant, on a *Starfleet* ship. It may not be ideal, but personally, I think it's a hell of a lot better than having been blown up by the Cardassians, or the Kazon, or harvested for organs by the Vidiians."

 

Torres looked slightly abashed at the memory of the most recent encounter with the Phage-ridden species. She'd had a taste of what it would be like to be without her hot Klingon half and he thought that the experience had helped her come to terms with her mixed parentage. "We wouldn't even be in this quadrant if it weren't for her!"

 

"You don't know that, B'E. Do you really think the Val Jean could have held off those Kazon long enough for us to figure out how to make the Array send us back? Would you really have wanted to leave the Ocampa at the mercy of the Kazon?" She opened up her mouth to retort and he held up a hand, hoping to get her to think about it, if only for a few seconds. Their little ship, the Val Jean, had been in rough shape even before they'd been pulled into the Delta quadrant and the trip hadn't done them any favors, either. The crew had managed a few repairs after they were returned from the Array, but they'd barely had warp and would have been woefully outgunned. Not to mention hard-pressed to find B'Elanna on Ocampa.

 

B'Elanna glared at him, but he could almost see the thoughts clicking past behind her eyes. She sighed and he knew that he'd won at least that small part of the battle. "Probably not. But that still doesn't mean you have to *marry* her!"

 

He shrugged, searching for an answer that wouldn't invite more questions, or would require him to lie. He'd been friends with Torres too long to lie to her face. Not to mention that she'd likely see right through it and then he'd be in even more trouble. "Is your only objection to our marriage the fact that she's a Starfleet Captain?"

 

"Yes! I mean, no! I . . . " she trailed off momentarily, but it was too good to last. "You can't possibly love her!?!" She looked at him disbelievingly, dark eyes wide with both surprise and curiosity.

 

It was on the tip of his tongue to say that of course he didn't love Janeway, but the quick answer died in his throat. He knew that, if he asked, she wouldn't reveal the fact that the marriage was just to help unite the crew, and reassure the Maquis that Janeway was *not* trying to kill him. She wouldn't forget, though, and would probably pester him incessantly. He could probably deal with that, though.

 

No, what stayed his tongue was that he wasn't entirely sure that he *didn't* love Kathryn Janeway.

 

@---'---,----

 

Janeway entered the mess hall with a touch of trepidation. The announcement that she and the commander would be getting married before they departed the 37s planet had been made via the comm system just a few hours ago and since that time, she'd hardly dared put her head out of her ready room. She supposed, having consented to this scheme, that it ought to have been beneath her to hide away, but she wasn't sure she was ready to see the crew's reaction.

 

The bridge crew had either been warned or were sensible enough to realize that the topic was not open for discussion and most certainly not on duty, but before she'd excused herself on the pretence of reports to read and sign off on, she'd witnessed more than a few surreptitious glances toward the center seats. She'd chosen to think that they were apprehensive about wishing their commanding officers well, but knew that it was more likely that they were looking for any overt sign of affection. She'd made sure to touch Chakotay's shoulder as she announced that she would be in her ready room if anyone needed her.

 

Now it was lunch time and, as she'd feared yesterday (had it really been just yesterday?), she was short of replicator rations and if she wanted to eat anything at all, she had to brave Neelix's cuisine. She'd tried to ignore her rumbling stomach as long as she could, but with only a single cup of coffee thus far, it was rebelling and demanding real food. She'd given Chakotay and the bridge crew only the most perfunctory of nods on her way to the turbolift, not wanting to see if her guesses about their earlier looks were justified.

 

Now, as the doors of the mess hall slid open, she felt as thought there had been some sort of silent fanfare heralding her arrival because the hiss of the doors closing behind her was loud in the unnatural silence she had just entered. She stopped, and was about to reverse course when Neelix bustled up, his exuberance and good humor seeming out of place in the quiet that had descend over the diners with her arrival.

 

"Captain!" The ebullient alien was all smiles and gregarious good cheer. "I expect you're here for lunch. Don't you worry, I've got just the thing!" He escorted her to the buffet line before scooting behind the counter, never once pausing in his eager descriptions of the culinary delights (or misfortunes) she was about to experience. "I just know you'll like this Gamarian soup -- it's traditionally something of a celebratory dish on their world, but it's become quite popular with some of the other peoples in this sector." He placed a bowl of oily grey-green liquid on her tray, beaming proudly.

 

"And this is some _jolli_ , a personal favorite that I think pairs were nicely with the soup. It's a bit heavy, but very absorbent and perfect for mopping up the last bits of broth." A small plate with two thick slices of something that looked like cooked beets was deposited next to the soup. "Go find a seat, Captain, and I'll be right over with some of my newest non-coffee coffee substitute. I know some of my prior attempts have been a little too rich, but I think you'll like this newest batch."

 

As the Talaxian disappeared into the kitchen, Janeway was left with no choice but to turn and face her crew as she tried to find an unoccupied table where, hopefully, no one would be compelled to ask her any awkward questions. The conversations that had fallen off abruptly with her arrival seem to have returned with a vengeance and there was a dense hum of chatter as she made her way to a small, two-person table near the view ports

 

Hoping to deter any overly curious crew members from approaching, she deliberately seated herself facing the windows with her back to most of the rest of the room. She could see the reflection of most of the current patrons in the transparent aluminium, but could easily avoid making eye contact with anyone. She took a tentative bite of the _jolli_ and found that it's texture was not dissimilar to the beets she'd compared it too earlier, though the flavor was nutty with just a touch of sweet. It was, as Neelix had said, quite heavy, and she doubted that she'd be able to eat more than a slice.

 

Still, as the flavor wasn't too objectionable, she decided to follow his suggestion and dipped a corner of the "bread" into the soup. She sniffed it experimentally before taking a bite and almost recoiled. The oily soup had a thick, gamy scent that didn't help its unappealing appearance in the least. Shuddering slightly, she held her breath and took a bite. With effort, she forced herself to chew and then swallow. The dunking had changed the texture of the bread into something more like an uncooked spongy dough that seemed to stick to roof of her mouth.

 

She managed to get down a couple more bites of the strange bread before Neelix appeared with a cup of his coffee substitute. He apologized profusely for the delay and she smiled indulgently until some other patron caught his attention and he scurried off. Fully prepared for this concoction to be as off the mark as his previous attempts, she tilted the cup and was pleased to see that the dark liquid at least moved like coffee. The taste was something else, however, being a cross between burnt chocolate and hazelnuts. It wasn't coffee, but it wasn't the worst so she slugged down a few quick swallows and hoped he'd at least gotten the caffeine content right.

 

The first few sips of the better-than-coffee substitute seemed to have burned out part of her taste receptors and she slowed her consumption. As she sipped the bitter brew, she let her gaze drift to the stars out the view port. They were, as they had been for the past many months, unfamiliar. Here and there her eye would snag on what seemed to be a corner of a Terran constellation but then her gaze would shift and the picture would become skewed and alien again.

 

A bluish glow fringed the port side of the windows and she recognized it for the reflected light from the planet as they orbited. She wondered idly if the 37s had names for the stars in their skies. It wasn't something she'd thought to ask but now she was curious to know if they had attached age-old names to new stars or if they had labelled the skies anew. Did she now look out upon a Rigel or Sirius or Mimosa? She made a mental note to ask about their astronomy when she was next planet-side.

 

With a faint shiver, she realized that the next time she was on the surface would likely be for this ridiculous wedding. As soon as she'd dismissed Chakotay after their chat, she'd wanted to call him back, call Tuvok back, and tell them that the entire plot out of the question. No matter what 'logical' arguments Tuvok had, no matter how many fights broke out, the very idea of a captain marrying her first officer was ludicrous. And not just *any* captain, but she, Kathryn Janeway, who was already engaged!

 

She settled her mug on the table top with a thunk and bowed her head, wondering how in the world she'd allowed herself to be convinced that there was any validity to the crackpot scheme in the first place. She closed her eyes, letting the meeting replay in her mind. But even as Tuvok laid out his arguments, other voices intruded on the scene.

 

"-- something between them from the first; they teamed up to find Kim and Torres with hardly more than twenty words between them."

 

"She made that Maquis traitor first officer over Lieutenant Tuvok --" "Yeah, but would you really want to report to Tuvok for everything?"

 

"-- wears his heart on his sleeve, but she's not exactly a closed book either. Look how often she touches him." "She touches everyone. I tell you, she's being blackmailed --"

 

"--s terribly romantic! Like something out of a holonovel."

 

"-- haven't even known each other a year. I tell you, something's shady."

 

Some of the voices she could place, like Mulcahey and Baxter, but others she couldn't put a face to. She rather thought that the one comparing the upcoming travesty to a holonovel was one of the Delaneys, but she was unwilling to turn and check. While she could hardly hope that her presence had gone unremarked and unnoticed, looking around would be acknowledging their words and her awareness of them.

 

Rather, she hoped that if she remained still, pretending to be oblivious to the observations of her crew, she would be able to feign complete ignorance of the conversations that had been occurring behind her back. But how long could she sit here, pretending to be absorbed by the stars? If she was late back to the bridge, either Chakotay or Tuvok would come looking for her and if it was Chakotay, she could just imagine how the whispering crew members might perceive it.

 

After another ten minutes of hushed whispers and unsubstantiated rumors, she realized she'd have to make her own excuse for leaving. Jenny (or was it Megan?) and her lunch companion had left but Baxter and Mulcahey were taking their own sweet time with their lunches. Of course, considering the dining options they'd had to face when they arrived, it was hardly a wonder that anyone might delay eating whatever it was as long as possible.

 

Taking a deep breath, she quietly began gathering her things, wishing she'd at least brought a PADD with her. She could have juggled it with the tray and given the impression that she was utterly absorbed in some report or other. As it was, she'd simply have to do her best at looking distracted without it coming across as though she were lost in thoughts of what she'd overheard.

 

As she picked up her tray and started toward the busing station, she tried mentally listing the various MaCHOs in the known universe, but her thoughts stubbornly remained on the snippets of gossip. From the little she'd heard, she was concerned. Even though both she and Chakotay knew they weren't marrying out of any desperate romance, contrary to whatever the Delaney sisters thought, she doubted that it would help matters if members of the crew thought she was being coerced into marrying her first officer.

 

There was some hope as the two conversations that had most particularly expressed a belief in her unwillingness had also included citations of why genuine affection was possible. She'd told Chakotay that they wouldn't have to do any acting to make Tuvok's plot work, but now she'd have to eat her words and convince him that it was in the best interests of the ship for them to be a little bit demonstrative. Or maybe she wouldn't have to . . . She ran the words over in her mind as she made her way down the corridor to the 'lift. The belief seemed to be that *she* was being coerced; the speakers had seemed to think his affection was genuine enough.

 

But how could she make it seem as though she was happy, even potentially eager for the marriage without making such a drastic change in her behavior that it alone would be suspicious? She stepped into the turbolift but rather than calling for the bridge, she called for deck ten. There were few enough people that she felt she could honestly confide in on board, and Tuvok and Chakotay were out of the question for this particular issue. Kes, however, had proven herself to be very discreet and reliable. As an added bonus, the Ocampan's telepathic abilities would make explaining the situation that much easier.

 

When the 'lift opened, she headed for the airponics bay, hoping that Kes was there and not helping in sickbay. The EMH, despite being a hologram, was all too human in some ways including an unfortunate propensity to gossip. She wasn't entirely sure it was deliberate, but whether by choice or because he didn't have any criteria for determining what should or should not be shared, anything said or done in front of him was likely to be common knowledge on the ship in a matter of days.

 

The doors to the airponics bay slid open at her approach and she smiled to hear Kes' melodic humming coming from within.  Kes firmly believed that talking to the plants was beneficial and that extended to singing and humming.  Not wanting to startle the young Ocampan woman, Kathryn stepped to the side after entering and let the doors slide shut behind her.      Although Kes' telepathic abilities were still undeveloped, they seemed to be growing by leaps and bounds and Kathryn was sure that the young woman would detect her presence sooner rather than later.  
  
Less than a minute later, the humming trailed off and Kathryn could hear the slight sounds as Kes put aside whatever she'd been doing to concentrate on her senses.  "Hello? Is someone there?"  The thick foliage of the plants made lines of sight problematic, but a shifting of shadows showed her approach.  
  
"Hello, Kes," she announced her presence as she stepped around the first rack of plants.  
  
"Oh, Captain!" The smile that seemed almost perpetually present on the Ocampan's face spread into a welcoming grin.  "Come in and see the plants!"  Kes caught Kathryn's arm and towed her from one rack to another, pointing out the blooms on one set of plants, then the buds on another.  Kathryn was sampling a red-orange fruit that resembled a Terran raspberry when Kes quietly laid a hand on her forearm.  "You're very good to come see my work, but that's not really why you're here, is it, Captain?"  
  
Grateful for Kes' insight, Janeway smiled.  "No, you're quite right, Kes.  While the plants are lovely and you're doing a wonderful job with them, I actually came to talk to you."  
  
"Of course, Captain."  The pixie-faced alien nodded eagerly, "Anything I can do to help."  
  
Janeway took a seat on one of the benches that Kes had requisitioned for the space and patted the place beside her.  Kes obligingly sat.  "Thank you."  She looked down for a moment, then met the Ocampan's curious gaze.  "This isn't an official visit and I'd appreciate it if, for the moment, you might address me as 'Kathryn'?"    
  
Kes nodded, looking thoughtful but relaxed in a way that Janeway envied.  
  
"I'm sure that you heard the announcement that Commander Chakotay and I will be getting married tomorrow?"

 

The Ocampan's face split into a wide, joyful smile. "Yes, of course. Neelix was so thrilled that you announced it on his program."

 

"Yes, well, I'm not sure that it's all that he thinks it's cracked up to be."

 

Kes nodded sagely. "I wondered about that. It has something to do with the fights between the crew, doesn't it?" Janeway looked at her, surprised, and the Ocampa shrugged. “I've been helping the Doctor in sickbay quite a bit recently, helping to heal contusions and other minor injuries."  
  
"I'm sure he appreciates your help, Kes."  She patted the young woman's arm.  "Do you know why these fights are breaking out?"  
  
"Not exactly.  I've heard a few things but they don't seem to make much sense."  
  
"Unfortunately, in situations like this, the reasons often don't make a lot of sense except to those who are directly involved.  Our marriage is meant to demonstrate that we are both invested in the success of our mission and that we trust each other completely."

 

Another nod, accompanied by the sweet smile that so perfectly reflected Kes' personality that Janeway couldn't help but smile back. "Do you really think that will work?"    
  
"We believe . . . we hope that our marriage will help resolve the tensions between the two crews and in particular the fears of some of the former Maquis.  Or at least we did.  Recently, it's come to my attention that some of the crew believe that I may have been coerced into participating in the marriage, in which case we could be trading one source of tension for another."    
  
"And you think I can help with that?"  
  
"You're very perceptive and not just because of your mental gifts.  You have an innate understanding of how people think and understand different things.  I was thinking that I might be able to change the way I interact with Chakotay in order to reassure those individuals that I am not being pressured or forced into the union.  If I change my behavior too drastically, it would be equally obvious.  I thought you might have some observations on what I can do that might help."  
  
  
"Captain, Kathryn . . . I think that if you want the crew to believe that you genuinely care for Commander Chakotay, the best thing you could do is admit to yourself that you do care for him, and as something more than just your first officer."

 

@---'---,----

 

With Kes' words ringing in her head, Janeway made her way back to the bridge. Preoccupied as she was, she was only vaguely aware of Tuvok and the rest of the bridge crew acknowledging her return and her own nod of recognition. The only person she did really register was Chakotay, sitting, as always, in the chair just to the right of her command chair. She felt the beginnings of a grin tug at her mouth and almost let them come to fruition before recollecting where she was. Instead, she offered only a tight smile to her first officer as she took her seat.

 

For a few minutes, she was able to occupy herself with checking on the various systems' status reports, but aside from a very minor .0021 deviation in the power consumption of the lateral sensor array, there had been no change since before she went to lunch. She sighed and turned her attention to the view screen, but even the streaks of light that indicated warp speed held little interest for her. Abruptly, she stood.

 

"You have the bridge, Commander. I'll be in my ready r-" The last word was cut of by the closing of the office doors.

 

Safely ensconced in her office, she took a few steps toward the replicator before remembering that she had exhausted her monthly rations. She thought about calling Neelix to ask him to bring up a pot of the 'better than coffee' coffee-substitute he'd served her for lunch and even raised her hand toward her comm badge to make the call before deciding against it. Caffeine or not, she couldn't stomach the thought of the burnt nut flavor and just the memory had her screwing up her face in distaste.

 

Wearily, she sank down in her desk chair and let the momentum of her movement fuel its rotation for almost a full turn. Had it stopped facing the blank office wall, she might have left it at that and just let her mind continue its meanderings un-distracted by visual stimuli, but instead she found herself facing the replicator which only served to mock her with its unfulfilled promise of coffee. She wrenched herself around so she was facing the desk and its myriad PADDs. She sorted through them, half-heartedly looking for one that wasn't pertaining to the recent spat of fights, before giving up and tapping her communicator.

 

"Janeway to Chakotay. Please report to my ready room."

 

Almost before her hand left the cool metal of the badge, she regretted the rash call. She wasn't ready to discuss this! She hadn't decided what to do! But the call was made and the chime would be ring---

 

*Beee-boop*

 

She closed her eyes for just a half second of calm before calling for him to enter. "Come."

 

She watched him as he entered, enjoying the few unsuspected moments of regard that if afforded her. From the beginning, she had been aware of how physically attractive he was. She would have had to have been blind not to see it. But she'd always registered it with a sort of smug detachment before - she was engaged, she could look but she already had someone. But Kes had helped crystallize just how much that situation had changed in just the past day.

 

Yesterday, he had been Chakotay, former Maquis turned stalwart first officer and nascent friend. Today, he was Chakotay, former Maquis, worthy first officer, friend, and future husband. She was allowed to look for his best features, even expected to - at least by the crew. The smile that had been creeping up as she watched his progress from the door to his current position in front of her desk was shut down with blink.

 

"Please, sit." She shuffled some PADDs, buying time, before allowing herself to look at him again. "We have a small problem."

 

She could read his query in the twitch of his eyebrows, but he waited for her to continue.

 

"It seems, judging by what I overheard in the mess hall, that there is some significant suspicion that our imminent marriage is not a happy occasion but something that I am being forced into." A slight choking sound came from the commander and she looked at him sharply.

 

"Sorry, but I have difficulty believing that anyone could force you into a marriage against your will." He made a valiant effort to conceal his amusement, but a smile still flickered at the corners of his mouth.

 

She stared at him for a full second, her immediate denial dying on her tongue even as she opened her mouth. She supposed that he had certainly seen enough of her stubborn intractability over the previous eight months to know just how hard she could, and would, fight against being made to do something she absolutely didn't want to do. She could only just contain her own smile and hid the last vestiges by looked down at an inactive PADD. "Yes, well . . . " She huffed a breath, and feeling her composure restored, looked up. "Be that as it may, there still seems to be a portion of this crew that is unaware of exactly how forcefully I can object to being made to do anything.

 

"In lieu of this, I believe that we will have to make a more concerted effort than I anticipated in making it seem that we are both entering into this union freely and with a genuine desire for its success."

 

"I take it you have a suggestion?"

 

"I was thinking we should have dinner. In the mess hall. Together." Why did she feel so awkward saying that? Even if the circumstances were far from ideal, they were engaged after all. Going on what might be construed as a date was hardly unusual. Still, she felt her cheeks warm with a blush.

 

He was grinning and it was more than a little disconcerting. She was about to rescind the invitation when he nodded. "Sounds good. I'll pick you up at 18:30, if that's all right with you?"

 

The time would put them right at the height of the dinner hour. "I . . . uh, yes. That should be fine." She forced a smile, hating that Kes' words this afternoon were making her act like such a ninny. She glanced at her desk, searching for an excuse to end this clumsy interview. "Well, I have work to do."

 

She could tell from his smirk that he knew exactly what she was doing, but he simply nodded and left. She sagged into her seat and put her head in her hands. How in the world was she going to get through dinner while making it look like she was genuinely in love with him if she couldn't even get through a simple interview without tripping all over herself?

 

@---'---,----

 

Chakotay frowned as he studied his closet. Like most people on board, he didn't have a lot of civilian clothes. In fact, other than the worn clothing he'd been wearing when they'd beamed him off the Val Jean, he really didn't have much of anything at all. A pair of sleeping pants, gym shorts, a couple of tee shirts, and a spare uniform made up the rest of his wardrobe. He could order something from the replicator -- a simple shirt and pants would only cost about a day's rations -- but he'd been planning on gifting some of his replicator rations to Kathryn so she could have at least some respite from Neelix's attempts at substitutes.

 

He blew out a breath and looked at his meager options again. He didn't have any outfits, but maybe he could mix and match. The uniform pants were reasonably nondescript save for the slit at the ankle. If he paired them with his woven shirt, maybe she wouldn't notice. He shook his head; of course she'd notice. He'd met few people who were as observant and perceptive as Kathryn Janeway. With a shrug, he decided that his best choice was to just go with his uniform.

 

He checked the time; there were still five minutes before she expected him so he spent the time cleaning his teeth and washing his face. A quick comb through his hair and he was ready. He exited his quarters and headed down the hall to her door. As he rang her chime, he felt like a teenager, calling on a date. He was grown man, for Pete’s sake. But when she opened the door, dressed in a blue dress he was absolutely sure he'd never seen before, he felt just as tongue-tied as he had when he'd picked up Chimala for a young people's dance when he was fourteen.

 

"Chakotay?"

 

He shook his head, hoping to knock some sense into place. "You look lovely. Shall we?" He offered his arm and she took it, the warmth of her palm seeming to burn through the gabardine fabric.

 

They dropped hands at the 'lift, as the entry really wasn't quite wide enough for two to enter abreast, but they linked arms again upon reaching deck two. Together, they entered the mess hall and he was sure that a subtle hush settled over the room as they did and more than a few heads turned to look at them. Self-consciously, he dropped her arm and instead guided her toward the serving line with his hand at the small of her back.

 

"Captain! Commander!" Neelix greeted them with an enormous grin. "I have just the thing for you two!" The Talaxian ducked out of sight into the kitchen and returned moments later with two steaming bowls of alarmingly chartreuse soup. "Here you go; two bowls of Joktalian curry stew. Verrrrrry tasty!"

 

Kathryn leaned forward and took a tentative sniff. "Smells delightful, thank you, Neelix." She looked up at him expectantly. "Chakotay?"

 

"Oh, yes, I'm sure it's wonderful." He picked up a tray and deposited the two bowls onto it, along with something that appeared to pass for a salad. He hoped that the stew was vegetarian, but if not he'd do his best to eat around any meat he found in it. "Well, where shall we sit?" Using her first name would go a ways toward convincing people that they really were a couple, but she hadn't given him permission and he didn't want to assume the privilege.

 

He followed her to a table and set the tray down before pulling out her chair. She touched his arm and smiled up at him as she took her seat. Surprised, he stumbled and sat rather more heavily than he normally would have. Her words from the ready room echoed in his head and hoped no one had noticed his gaff, or at least missed its real cause.

 

@---'---,----

 

“Harry? Are you listening to me?”

 

“Wha?” Harry offered Tom a rueful smile. They were in the mess hall and Tom had been talking about the Delaney twins again. “Sorry.”

 

“What's got you so distracted?”

 

Harry looked down at his tray and idly stirred his food. “It's the Captain and the Commander. I just don't understand it,” he muttered.

 

“What's not to understand? They like each other; they're getting married.”

 

“But I thought the Captain was engaged.” He thought of Libby, back on Earth, missing him as he was missing her and couldn't imagine giving up on her so easily.

 

“Harry, I've come to understand that love's a fickle thing. Just when you think you have it all worked out,” Tom snapped his fingers, “Poof! It changes the rules on you.”

 

Harry was about to reply when the mess hall doors opened and the Captain and the Commander entered, arm in arm. The entire room hushed and Tom twisted in his seat to see what the fuss was about. As the commanding officers were greeted by Neelix, he swivelled back to Harry, a triumphant smirk on his face.

 

“That doesn't prove anything,” Harry groused, picking at his food.

 

Paris rolled his eyes. “C'mon, Harry . . . haven't you noticed the way she touches him?”

 

“Keep your voice down,” Harry hissed, hunching his shoulders as if it would help him disappear. “She touches everyone.”

 

“Not the way she touches him. Watch.”

 

Harry sighed. At present he was facing them, but if they passed by, there was no way that he was craning around to spy on them eat dinner.

 

They stood at the counter, and he was slightly disturbed to see the commander's hand resting on the small of the captain's back. After a few minutes discussion with Neelix, the were served and Captain Janeway lead the way through the diners to a two-person table located by the view ports. The commander followed two steps behind her, carrying their tray.

 

“I don't see anything.”

 

“Keep watching.”

 

Harry was about argue when B'Elanna slid into the third seat at their table. “Hey, Starfleet.” She took a few bites of her meal, eyes looking between the two men. “Okay, give. What are you up to now?”

 

“Harry here doesn't think there's anything between the captain and the commander.”

 

“There isn't,” he insisted again.

 

“Yeah? Well, what's that, then? He just pulled out her chair for her.”

 

“That's common courtesy, Flyboy. Maybe you should try it some time.”

 

@---'---,----

 

For her part, Janeway was keenly aware that she and Chakotay were being carefully observed by a large portion of the room's population. She'd even counted on it and was behaving accordingly.

 

“I take it this is part of the plan to show that we're not being coerced?” Chakotay nodded to where Janeway's hand rested on his.

 

“Hm. It's not that much different from what we do every day, but it's a bit more familiar.”

 

“If we held hands, it would be even more familiar.” He wiggled his fingers under hers.

 

“But not exactly discreet.” She pulled her hand back with a slight warning in her eyes. She couldn't afford to get too familiar. Even if she saw him as more than just a friend, there was nothing to say that he looked at her in the same way. She needed to play her part and not read anything into it.

 

“Okay. Well, what do you suppose a 'discreet' engaged couple might talk about over dinner?” He dropped his gaze and busied himself with eating.

 

“I don't know. The ceremony? Evansville put me in contact with one of their magistrates and he sent me quite a bit of information on their traditions.”

 

@---'---,----

 

The ceremony, as it turned out, was beautiful. It was held out of doors in a park and attended by the entire crew. Most of the 37s also attended as did John Evansville and a good number of his people, apparently eager to see the union of the two leaders of the space-going humans that had come to visit their world.

 

There had been a brief argument over whether dress uniforms or civilian apparel was appropriate for the symbolic uniting of the crew, and in the end it was decided to be a civilian affair in keeping with the idea that Kathryn and Chakotay were marrying for love rather than duty. As a result, the audience was a field of soft colors comprised of dove grey suits, floral dresses, and pastel tops.

 

Chakotay stood uneasily at the altar, feeling stiff and nervous in a charcoal grey tuxedo. Beside him, Ayala stood as best man, with Paris and Kim as additional groomsmen. For her retinue, Janeway had asked Samantha Wildman to be her matron of honor with B'Elanna and Kes as bridesmaids. Tuvok was given the honor of giving away the bride.

 

When Kathryn appeared at the end of the aisle, Chakotay heard a faint whistle from behind him. He wasn't sure it if was Tom or Ayala, though his money was on Tom. The pilot hadn't been one of his first choices to stand up with him but he recognized the importance of showing the support of the senior staff. He'd actually been rather surprised when Harry initially balked at the request.

 

Janeway seemed almost to glide down the aisle. Beside her, Tuvok in a charcoal tuxedo of his own was a perfect foil to Kathryn's fair skin and cream white dress. She had decided to eschew the veil and he applauded her decision. She looked radiantly happy and he wondered if perhaps she was imagining that she was on her way down the aisle to the fiancee she'd left in the Alpha Quadrant. His own smile was genuine, if only because he managed to keep his thoughts off the true reason for the ceremony.

 

Chakotay wondered if it was his imagination or if her hand really trembled as Tuvok placed it into his before retiring to his seat in the front row. She tilted her head back so she could look him square in the eye and for a moment he was frozen. All that he could read in her blue eyes was an unadulterated joy. In contrast to her appearance of bliss, he felt positively morbid and his smile slipped momentarily. Then she squeezed his hand slightly and took the step up the riser to where the magistrate waited.

 

As the 37s had been abducted from a wide range of cultures and walks of life, they had developed a unique culture blended from many different traditions. While the wedding ceremony borrowed heavily from the common book of prayer, it also involved a white rope that bound the couple's wrists together as well as the stomping of a glass chalice. Their bound hands made the second custom a bit awkward, particularly as the cup failed to break on the first stomp and Chakotay almost fell and pulled Kathryn down on top of him. Quick thinking by Ayala and Tom kept them right side up and the glass was successfully smashed.

 

Then came the call for the two united to share a kiss. Although he'd known it was coming, it still caught Chakotay by surprise and he wasn't quite sure what to do. He wanted to kiss Kathryn properly but worried that it might be taking the charade too far. He didn't want to resolve the discord between the crews only to incite discord with his captain. So, after a moments hesitation which he hoped was not too obvious, he gave her a rather chaste kiss on the lips.

 

As he stepped back, he caught a flash of something in her eyes but it was gone too quickly for him to identify. Immediately, it was replaced by a sunny smile as they turned to face the assembled crew and well-wishers. As they retreated down the aisle, he glanced over at his bride, hoping to share a smile for a job well done, but Kathryn kept her eyes straight ahead and though her hand was clasped in his, it was as cool and impersonal as a dignitary being escorted by the enemy's captain of the guard.

 

The reception was hosted in the same park, and catered by cooks from the planet, which he was sure pleased the stomachs of the crew. According to custom, he and Kathryn were to remain physically bound until nightfall. Due to the awkwardness of getting around while tied to another person, they spent most of the reception seated at the table of honor. The only time they were called to stand was to start the dancing with the traditional first dance as a married couple. Through it all, although Kathryn moved gracefully enough, he felt all the warmth of an icicle from her. While her smile seemed genuine when interacting with others, every time she turned it on him he detected a certain brittleness in her expression.

 

@---'---,----

 

Kathryn looked around, finding it odd to see so many unfamiliar faces after seeing only her crew and a handful of belligerent aliens for the past several months. Another oddity was that they were all smiling, some more reservedly and others broadly, but every single face seemed to be grinning, even those who were unfamiliar with the ancient holiday of Christmas.

 

She, herself, was familiar with the celebration, having grown up in a relatively traditional community on Earth. But even with that background, she found herself somewhat lost in regards to a number of the festivities. The bedecked tree was familiar enough, but something called a Nativity Scene had not been one of the usual decorations on display in Indiana. John Evansville had explained that the rustic barn and its accompanying figures represented one of the religious meanings of the holiday, as a number of the descendents of the 37s still held religious beliefs.

 

At present, most of her crew and a good number of 37s were gathered around an eight meter Christmas tree that had been erected in the middle of one of the community parks in the city nearest to Voyager's landing point. Even after their abductions and enslavement, the humans on this planet in the distant reaches of the Delta Quadrant had somehow managed to keep track of the Earth calendar and it was now December 24th, or Christmas Eve. A few voices lifted in a vaguely familiar song and were soon joined by many others until nearly the entire assembly was singing. Even those who were unfamiliar with the lyrics were humming along with the melody.

 

Knowing that singing was not one of her strong suits (to put something of a point on it, it ranked right down there with her cooking skills), she had wandered away from the brightly lit tree and was examining the Nativity. The open side of the display faced the outside of the park, and while the Nativity was lighted independent of the tree, the illumination was limited to a few realistic looking torches that were mounted on upright poles of the barn.

 

She wasn't sure it if was the dim and flickering torch light that made the half-sized figures so lifelike, or if they had simply been made that way, but the effect was slightly eerie. A few of the figures were even animated to a limited degree -- the cow nodded its head, a few geese pecked at the floor, a woman in blue bowed her head in prayer, and the naked infant at the center of the display waved its arms. The mechanism for the movement didn't quite match the anatomy, however, and there was a disturbing bulge near the right shoulder when the child raised its tiny fist.

 

"Captain?" She started slightly, though the soft voice was immediately recognizable. She should have known that he would notice when she wandered away from the others.

 

"I'm here, Chakotay."

 

He emerged from around the side of the stable, taking her words for the invitation they were. For several minutes, he stood quietly, looking at the scene that was at once pacific and bizarre. "So this is the root of Christmas?"

 

Kathryn shrugged. "One of them, I suppose. There have been celebrations around the winter solstice for centuries, much longer than Christianity, but the familiar name stems from this scene."

 

"An apt metaphor, I suppose, the birth of a child for the return of the sun."

 

"Yes. I believe birth was a recurrent theme for the winter-tide celebrations."

 

"And marriage?"

 

She hid a smile. It was a clumsy segue but he wasn't wrong. "Yes, wintertime weddings were still very common where I grew up."

 

"Was a winter wedding one of your fantasies?"

 

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, wondering what he was trying to get at. Certainly the ceremony they'd participated in the day before had not been the stuff of fantasies, but did he wonder if she resented the lack of pageantry? "No, but I think it was my sister's. I always wanted a summer wedding, that could be performed outdoors in the shade of my thinking tree."

 

"Your 'thinking tree'?"

 

She smiled as she remembered her special spot. "Yes, it was a great big oak with huge, spreading branches. It was at the far end of the yard, just before the lawn became a cornfield. The bole was nearly a meter in diameter, and there was a perfect crook created by three branches about two meters above the ground. I couldn't reach it by myself, of course, but from my father's shoulder's I could climb on to one of the branches and crawl in there. When I was about six, he suggested putting pegs in the trunk so I could climb up by myself, but my mother wouldn't hear of harming the tree. So instead, we designed a retractable ladder that I could use and pull up when I didn't want to be disturbed. It came in rather handy when I was trying to do some studying and Phoebe was being, well, herself."

 

Janeway smiled in remembrance, then turned to her first officer, and husband. Although she'd been engaged before with every intention of getting married, it seemed strange to be married now, and to a man she really knew so very little about. "How about you, Commander? Did you have a special tree, or place you liked to go when you were a child?"

 

"No tree," he shook his head with a rueful smile. "Trees were pretty uncommon in the desert where I grew up, but there was a group of rocks that I pretended was a fort when I was boy."

 

"A fort? Who did you have to defend against?"

 

He grinned at her enthusiasm, enjoying how it made her seem younger than her actual years. "Different enemies," Chakotay shrugged, "Cowboys, Cardassians, Breen, Romulans. Probably whomever we'd most recently discussed in history."

 

His initial smile faded to a pensive frown and it occurred to her that the memory had probably dredged up unpleasant thoughts of what had happened to his planet later. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean . . ."

 

He waved off the apology. "I know. Sometimes it's hard to divorce the good memories from the later ones." He smiled, but it was halfhearted at best.

 

They walked on in silence for several minutes, Janeway wondering how to steer them to more cheerful topics without seeming like she was avoiding the subject, and Chakotay wishing he'd been better able to conceal his sorrow so that he wouldn't have interrupted the easy flow of their conversation. It really was ridiculous that they were married and yet so little at ease with each other, regardless of the circumstances and the impetus for the union.

 

"This is ridiculous." Janeway stopped short and folded her her arms over her chest. "I know it's terribly clumsy, and I *am* sorry, but ever since the ceremony yesterday, we haven't been able to manage a single conversation without bumbling into an uncomfortable topic."

 

Chakotay hadn't immediately noticed when she stopped, and taken another two steps before realizing she wasn't beside him. As he listened to her it occurred to him that his lack of awareness where she was concerned was another thing that had been unusual before their marriage. It was as if the very ceremony meant to help bring unity to the crew had been the catalyst to push the two participants apart.

 

(BEGIN ENDING 1) 

 

Abruptly, he realized that she'd stopped talking and was looking at him expectantly. He fumbled, trying to figure out what might be a rational and coherent reply, even though he didn't feel particularly rational or coherent at the moment. "Uh, yes, I, uh . . ." he trailed off, not really knowing how to reply. If he agreed, it might seem as if he thought it was trivial because he hadn't mentioned it, but at the same time, if he denied noticing it, not only would he be lying, but it would seem as if he had little regard for their conversations.

 

Kathryn frowned, disappointed in his lack of reply. Perhaps she was the only one who had noticed the differences in the way they interacted. The thought made her sad and forced her again to consider if perhaps her emotional engagement might be one-sided. Certainly there hadn't been any personal feeling in his kiss yesterday. It really would be ridiculous if she told him that she was in love with him when he only regarded her as an impersonal colleague.

 

She waived airily, forcing a smile to her face. "Never mind, Commander. It was just a thought. I haven't gotten much rest lately and I'm a bit punchy." She turned and started back to the tree, the company of the assorted crew and 37s suddenly much preferable to being alone with Chakotay.

 

She was leaving? She was leaving! Chakotay shook himself out of his own maundering thoughts and took off after her. It only took him a few steps to catch up to her, but she was using her 'command stride' and he caught her elbow to arrest her momentum. She whirled at his touch, eyes flashing, but almost as quickly turned away, though not before he caught a glimpse of something beyond the anger.

 

"Captain--" Her title seemed too formal given the circumstances. "Kathryn," the name, though unfamiliar, felt pleasant to his tongue. "You're not wrong. I noticed it too, but I didn't know how to bring it up, or even if I should. I know you only agreed to the marriage because of the crew, and you probably don't want to hear this, but I'm struggling because as much as I agree with that motive, I'm not comfortable with this being a marriage of convenience. I-- I . . ." Whatever he'd been about to say evaporated on his tongue.

 

She glanced at him sadly over her shoulder, "Neither am I, Commander, neither am I." With that, she shrugged off his hand and started back to the tree and the gathering at the center of the park.

 

Chakotay watched her go in confusion. It almost sounded as if . . . it couldn't be, though, could it? From those first few moments on Voyager's bridge, he'd been drawn to her. At first he'd put it down to simple lust, a basic hormonal response that would evaporate quickly as reality intruded. But as the weeks turned to months, he'd come to realize that it wasn't nearly that simple. Whatever he felt for Kathryn Janeway wasn't something as ephemeral as lust, but something much deeper. He'd never dreamed that she might be similarly effected.

 

He recalled the first time he'd begun to suspect the true depth of his feelings. It had been in her ready room, when he'd shown her his medicine bundle and helped introduce her to her own animal guide. He'd been surprised at her interest and acceptance of his people's beliefs after having read her personnel record. But contrary to her science background, from the moment he'd mentioned his people's spirit guides, she's been curious and even eager. Not once had she attempted to analyze or dissect the ritual.

 

At the time, he hadn't thought too much about why he'd chosen to show her his medicine bundle. But after B'Elanna had interrupted them, he'd been forced to confront the fact that when he'd introduced B'Elanna to her guide, he'd used the akoonah only. The medicine bundle contained personal symbols of particular meaning for him and yet, he'd revealed them, for the first time, to a woman whom he'd only known a handful of weeks at the time.

 

It was a telling fact, even if he hadn't wanted to admit it at the time. When he'd asked his own guide about it later, concerned that he might have given her offence by revealing articles of such personal magic to an outsider, she'd laughed at him. He'd been flustered enough by her response that it broke the trance. He hadn't felt centered enough to try again that evening.

 

Now, as he watched his captain, and the woman he'd come to realize held his heart, walk away from him, he couldn't help but remember his guide's words from when he'd finally composed himself enough to contact her two days later. "You expected her to analyze and criticize, and yet you are the one looking at things with your head rather than your heart."

 

"Ca-Kathryn, wait, please!" He jogged after her, hoping that while his call had been loud enough to draw her attention, it would not carry to the rest of the group.

 

Ahead of him, her steps slowed and he could see the tense set of her shoulders. "I-- were you saying what I thought you were saying?" If he was frowning, it was only because he was still trying to comprehend that the prim and proper, blue-blooded Kathryn Janeway might just possibly see him as more than a colleague she'd been forced to accept and work with by circumstance.

 

She stopped and when he came abreast of her, it was with grudging reluctance that she looked at him. "Honestly, Commander, I have no idea what you think I was saying." Her voice, thought low, held about as much warmth as a lump of rock from the Oort cloud. "And I don't particularly feel the need to open myself up to further ridicule."

 

"Ridic-- !?" It seemed their ability to communicate had deteriorated even further than either had suspected. "I wasn't making fun of you!"

 

She glanced nervously at the crowd as his voice rose in surprise. "Please! This is hardly the time or the place," she hissed.

 

He followed her glance and swallowed nervously, before taking her elbow in an effort to guide her out of any potential ear shot. She sent him a murderous look and tried to shrug off the contact but he wouldn't be deterred. If they let this fester any longer, the wedding they'd participated in would be all for nought as the crew would easily pick up on their discord. "Look, if we don't sort this out now, how do you think the crew will react when we report for duty tomorrow and can't manage a civil word to each other?"

 

Kathryn sighed, but knew that he was right. They did had to deal with this before they returned to the ship. “Fine.”

 

“Despite what you might think, I didn't come out here to argue with you.”

 

Another sigh, but at least with this one the tense set of her shoulders relaxed a little. He hoped it meant that she was a bit more amenable to listening. He dug into a pocket and produced a small, wrapped package. “Here.” He hoped the trinket would break the antagonistic mood.

 

She stared down at the gift for several long moments before taking it. “What's this?”

 

“The reason I came out here.”

 

She held the small box to her ear and shook it lightly. It thumped softly. “What is it?”

 

“A Christmas present.” He'd read up on the customs pertaining to the holiday since the Janeway had decided that the ship would remain planet-side so the crew could partake in the festivities. They were scheduled for departure at 1600 tomorrow, and any crew wishing to remain on the planet was expected to convene in the cargo bay at 1500 to disembark. “Open it.”

 

“But I didn't get you anything.” Even as she protested, her fingers were removing the ribbon.

 

Chakotay shrugged. “I saw it in one of their shops. I thought you might like something to remember this place.”

 

She threw him a smile that was at once happily surprised and yet a bit apprehensive. The wrapping paper had revealed a small wooden box. She opened it with a flick of her thumbnail. “Ohhh.”

 

The shop had contained an array wares, but a series of glass ornaments in the window had caught his attention. The one he'd selected had bevelled edges, turning it into a prism, but one flat side was incised with a line image of Earhart's plane.

 

“It's lovely. Thank you.”

 

“It's called a 'light catcher'. It's supposed to hang in a window to catch the sunlight, but I thought you'd like it.”

 

“I do.” Her smile this time was pure delight. She dangled the light catcher from her finger with the ribbon that had come threaded through a hole in the top and looked through it back toward the towering Christmas tree.

 

“Here, there's a bench. We can sit and talk.”

 

Still smiling lightly at the play of the tiny lights through the cut glass, Kathryn nodded and followed. As she sat beside him, she nestled the ornament back in it's box. “Why did you buy me a present?”

 

“I told you. I thought you'd want to remember the planet and meeting your hero.”

 

“Yes, but why did you buy _me_ a present? Why not something for B'Elanna or Kes?” She'd folded her hands in her lap and was looking at him earnestly.

 

“Do you really want to know?” He didn't want to blurt out his feelings and leave her feeling awkward or even guilty if she didn't return them.

 

“It has to do with what we were discussing, doesn't it?” A faint smile played around her mouth. “About not being content with a marriage of convenience?”

 

“Yes.” He hardly dared hope.

 

“Did you know that I was engaged? Before Mark, I mean.”

 

“No.”

 

“It was several years ago. I was just an ensign at the time and he was a lieutenant. I loved him with all my heart and when he died . . . I didn't know what to do. I was depressed for months, so bad that my sister had to take drastic measures to snap me out of it. It took a very long time before I let any one get anywhere near that close again. It took over four years with Mark before I would even discuss making it a real relationship and another two years before I'd let him propose.”

 

Chakotay wasn't quite sure why she was sharing this with him, but he wasn't about to interrupt.

 

“And then we were swept out here, to the Delta quadrant, and I met you. Somehow in the past eight months, you've managed to find your way past all the walls I'd built up. Even if we got home tomorrow, I don't think I could ever go back to Mark.” She looked up through her eyelashes and he could see the glint of tears on the corners. “Do you understand what I'm saying?”

 

“I think so. I hope so.” He took one of her slim, pale hands in his. “Kathryn Janeway, I love you. I don't know how and I don't know precisely when, but you've become my heart and my life. Would you consider making this a real marriage with me?”

 

She nodded jerkily as tears began streaming down her cheeks. “Yes. Yes, definitely, yes.”

 

“Come here.” He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her hair as she buried her streaked face in his neck. “Shhhh. Shhhh.”

 

After several moments, she pulled back so she could look up into his dear face. Her fingertips traced gently over the lines of his tattoo. “I love you, Chakotay. Whether we end up here or continuing on our way, I love you and I want to be with you for all time.”

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

@---'---,----

 

 

 

 

 

(BEGIN ENDING 2: The non-schmaltzy ending)

 

 

 

 

 

Abruptly, he realized that she'd stopped talking and was looking at him expectantly. He fumbled, trying to figure out what might be a rational and coherent reply, even though he didn't feel particularly rational or coherent at the moment. "Uh, yes, I, uh . . ." he trailed off, not really knowing how to reply. If he agreed, it might seem as if he thought it was trivial because he hadn't mentioned it, but at the same time, if he denied noticing it, not only would he be lying, but it would seem as if he had little regard for their conversations.

 

Kathryn frowned, disappointed in his lack of reply. Perhaps she was the only one who had noticed the differences in the way they interacted. The thought made her sad and forced her again to consider if perhaps her emotional engagement might be one-sided. Certainly there hadn't been any personal feeling in his kiss yesterday. It really would be ridiculous if she told him that she was in love with him when he only regarded her as an impersonal colleague.

 

She waived airily, forcing a smile to her face. "Never mind, Commander. It was just a thought. I haven't gotten much rest lately and I'm a bit punchy." She turned and started back to the tree, the company of the assorted crew and 37s suddenly much preferable to being alone with Chakotay.

 

She was leaving? She was leaving! Chakotay shook himself out of his own maundering thoughts and took off after her. It only took him a few steps to catch up to her, but she was using her 'command stride' and he caught her elbow to arrest her momentum. She whirled at his touch, eyes flashing, but almost as quickly turned away, though not before he caught a glimpse of something beyond the anger.

 

"Captain--" Her title seemed too formal given the circumstances. "Kathryn," the name, though unfamiliar, felt pleasant to his tongue. "You're not wrong. I noticed it too, but I didn't know how to bring it up, or even if I should. I know you only agreed to the marriage because of the crew, and you probably don't want to hear this, but I'm struggling because as much as I agree with that motive, I'm not comfortable with this being a marriage of convenience. I-- I . . ." Whatever he'd been about to say evaporated on his tongue.

 

She glanced at him sadly over her shoulder, "Neither am I, Commander, neither am I." With that, she shrugged off his hand and started back to the tree and the gathering at the center of the park.

 

Chakotay watched her go in confusion. It almost sounded as if . . . it couldn't be, though, could it? From those first few moments on Voyager's bridge, he'd been drawn to her. At first he'd put it down to simple lust, a basic hormonal response that would evaporate quickly as reality intruded. But as the weeks turned to months, he'd come to realize that it wasn't nearly that simple. Whatever he felt for Kathryn Janeway wasn't something as ephemeral as lust, but something much deeper. He'd never dreamed that she might be similarly effected.

 

He recalled the first time he'd begun to suspect the true depth of his feelings. It had been in her ready room, when he'd shown her his medicine bundle and helped introduce her to her own animal guide. He'd been surprised at her interest and acceptance of his people's beliefs after having read her personnel record. But contrary to her science background, from the moment he'd mentioned his people's spirit guides, she's been curious and even eager. Not once had she attempted to analyze or dissect the ritual.

 

At the time, he hadn't thought too much about why he'd chosen to show her his medicine bundle. But after B'Elanna had interrupted them, he'd been forced to confront the fact that when he'd introduced B'Elanna to her guide, he'd used the akoonah only. The medicine bundle contained personal symbols of particular meaning for him and yet, he'd revealed them, for the first time, to a woman whom he'd only known a handful of weeks at the time.

 

It was a telling fact, even if he hadn't wanted to admit it at the time. When he'd asked his own guide about it later, concerned that he might have given her offence by revealing articles of such personal magic to an outsider, she'd laughed at him. He'd been flustered enough by her response that it broke the trance. He hadn't felt centered enough to try again that evening.

 

Now, as he watched his captain, and the woman he'd come to realize held his heart, walk away from him, he couldn't help but remember his guide's words from when he'd finally composed himself enough to contact her two days later. "You expected her to analyze and criticize, and yet you are the one looking at things with your head rather than your heart."

 

"Ca-Kathryn, wait, please!" He jogged after her, hoping that while his call had been loud enough to draw her attention, it would not carry to the rest of the group.

 

Ahead of him, her steps slowed and he could see the tense set of her shoulders. "I-- were you saying what I thought you were saying?" If he was frowning, it was only because he was still trying to comprehend that the prim and proper, blue-blooded Kathryn Janeway might just possibly see him as more than a colleague she'd been forced to accept and work with by circumstance.

 

She stopped and when he came abreast of her, it was with grudging reluctance that she looked at him. "Honestly, Commander, I have no idea what you think I was saying." Her voice, thought low, held about as much warmth as a lump of rock from the Oort cloud. "And I don't particularly feel the need to open myself up to further ridicule."

 

"Ridic-- !?" It seemed their ability to communicate had deteriorated even further than either had suspected. "I wasn't making fun of you!"

 

She glanced nervously at the crowd as his voice rose in surprise. "Please! This is hardly the time or the place," she hissed.

 

He followed her glance and swallowed nervously, before taking her elbow in an effort to guide her out of any potential ear shot. She sent him a murderous look and tried to shrug off the contact but he wouldn't be deterred. If they let this fester any longer, the wedding they'd participated in would be all for nought as the crew would easily pick up on their discord. "Look, if we don't sort this out now, how do you think the crew will react when we report for duty tomorrow and can't manage a civil word to each other?"

 

Kathryn blew out an aggrieved sigh, but followed him back to the far side of the nativity. "Look, Chakotay, I know that this is hardly an ideal arrangement, but 'failure to consummate' is still a perfectly legitimate reason for an annulment. I'm sure we can both pretend to get along for a few months or so. Once the crew seems settled, we can go to Tuvok and have the whole thing annulled. I'm sure a few months won't make that much difference to B'Elanna."

 

"Annulled! B'Elanna?!?" He felt as though his brain was about to implode. “I don't want an annulment and what does B'Elanna have to do with anything?!” Kathryn looked at him as if he was mad, which was going to be a distinct possibility if they didn't straighten this out soon. “Kathryn Janeway, you are without a doubt the most exasperating, frustrating, and exhilarating woman I have ever met. Why in the world would I want someone else when I'm already married to you?”

 

Now she was frowning and he wasn't quite sure why.  “Even when you are doing your damnedest to drive me crazy, Kathryn, there's no one that I would choose over you.”  
  
She shook her head, and a few small tendrils escaped her upswept hair.  “I don't understand.  You said you weren't happy with a marriage in name only.”  
  
He clutched her shoulders but resisted the urge to shake her.  “And I'm not.  Because I love you.  I'm in love with you.  I want a real marriage, with you.”  
  
She blinked slowly.  “You love me?”    
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And you're not in love with B'Elanna?”  She tilted her head to the side and looked at him quizzically.    
  
“No.  Whatever gave you that idea?”  
  
She shrugged.  “She likes you.  I thought it was mutual.”  
  
“She like a little sister.”  They were getting off track and he shook his head.  “Can we get back to the subject at hand?”  
  
“Which was?”  
  
“Our marriage.”  
  
“I thought we'd covered that.”  
  
He scrunched his eyes closed in frustration.  “We covered parts of it.”  
  
“I really don't see what else there is to cover.  You love me, I love you.  We're going to have a real marriage and Tuvok won't have to give us an annulment for non consummation.”  
  
“Yes, but . . . Wait- you love me?”  He was quite sure that she hadn't said that before.  
  
“Yes.” She was giving him that look again, the one that doubted his sanity.  
  
“I'm going to kiss you now.  Then we're going to rejoin the others, sing a couple of carols, and then we'll --”  
  
“See about obliterating that non-consummation possibility?”  She grinned up at him.  
  
His surprised laughter was cut off as her lips covered his and all conversation was halted.  


End file.
